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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27134057">Written by Fate</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account'>orphan_account</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Twisted-Wonderland (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Amnesia, Dimension Travel, F/M, Light Angst, Slow Romance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 20:08:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,519</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27134057</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>You wake up in an entirely new place with no memory at all. All you know is your name, and that even though this place feels so foreign, there’s something about it that feels just like home. There’s something about Jamil, the person who found you, that feels just like home.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jamil Viper/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>48</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Written by Fate</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>AAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH hello !!! my first work for twst !!!! i just started watching the engsub last week (thank you shel_bb i owe you my entire life) and i fell in LOVE!!! i’ve been in a slump since i completed my dio fic but just as i was about to study for finals (nervous laughter) my brain decided to go HEY....HERE’S AN IDEA........ so yeah :’)) please take my humble offering.... i hope i did our favorite breakdancer/all-rounder Jamil Viper justice .. he might be a little bit ooc bc it’s my first twst work like i said so please be nice !!!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The first thing you notice when you wake up is that it’s cold.</p>
<p>It’s colder than any winter you’ve ever experienced, you think. It also feels different, <em>bizarre</em>. It isn’t a winter where everything is covered in ice or snow.</p>
<p>The second thing you notice is that the ground seems to be made out of sand.</p>
<p>The grains slip from the gaps between your fingers when you grab a handful. Are you at the beach? Most likely not—you would’ve heard the crashing of the waves and smelled the scent of the sea if you were. Here, you hear nothing at all aside from the whistles of the wind. You feel the chills from the breeze and the hairs on your skin rising as a shiver runs down your spine.</p>
<p>You’re in a desert, but <em>why</em>? Why are you here? <em>How </em>did you get here? </p>
<p>You push yourself up into a sitting position and the breeze seems to blow even harder. You’re not dressed for a climate like this—a simple t-shirt and a pair of trousers, <em>your sleepwear</em>—and you’re shivering from the cold. </p>
<p>It’s dark outside. The sky seems picturesque with its various shades of blue and stars spreading out throughout the horizon. Nothing or no one else is here—tonight, it’s only you and the sky that brings you dread instead of comfort. You can’t see a single person or a building anywhere, and for that reason, you feel yourself getting chills again. Only this time, it’s not from the cold. Your hands tremble as your heartbeat quickens, your gaze is darting everywhere wildly as you try to piece together what happened.</p>
<p>Your name comes to you first.</p>
<p>You repeat it again and again, holding on to the sand beneath you as you take in deep breaths to calm down. The world feels like it’s spinning and apprehension takes over your nerves—</p>
<p>
  <em> Where am I? Where is everyone? Why can’t I remember anything? </em>
</p>
<p>Before you know it, tears are streaming down your face and you’re whimpering, sobbing. You feel pathetic, sitting here alone, scared and <em>useless</em>. You’re lost and you don’t remember anything at all, just your name, which you think is not going to help you at all. Not when there is no one around to help—to  <em> save </em> you from the fear that is taking over.</p>
<p>You get up to your feet, exhaling shakily as you begin to walk without a destination in mind. How could you have one anyway, when you’re in a place you’ve never been to? There is nothing to help you; only the stars and your intuition. But can you really rely on it, now that your intuition has seemed to turn against you? You wander across the desert, rubbing your forearms as an attempt to create warmth from friction. You don’t know how long you’ve been walking until you see <em>it</em>, shining brightly in the distance—</p>
<p>A house? You’re not sure, but the longer you walk, the larger it looks, and the more desperate you become for a place to stay for the night. For someone who you can ask questions, someone who can tell you whatever you need to hear because now you’re alone and you’re the most afraid you’ve ever been.</p>
<p>You reach the house—no, this is <em>beyond </em>a house. It’s a <em>mansion </em>with its ivory marble and sandstone, surrounded by large succulents and tall trees. A voice is heard from behind you, snapping you out of your reverie.</p>
<p>“It’s late. What are you doing here?”</p>
<p>Your eyes widen and you whip around to meet a young man who looks about your age. He masks his expressions well, but you can tell from his tone that he is irritated. There’s something about him that draws you in, though; it feels like electricity or a magnetic buzz that pulls you closer. The light of the moon illuminates his face and you get a closer look this time.</p>
<p>(<em>The tingling sensation on the back of your neck grows stronger the longer you stare at him.</em>)</p>
<p>Unblemished dark skin, smoldering eyes and long, dark hair that appears as smooth as silk flowing behind him—he’s beautiful, and perhaps the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen. He clears his throat and starts to tap his foot impatiently, bringing your attention back to your current situation again.</p>
<p>You are lost. You don’t remember anything but your name. You’re cold, you’re hungry, and you’re tired. This boy is possibly your only way out or saving grace, and there is no way you’re going to let yourself stay out here for another night. You don’t even <em>know</em> how long you’ve been here, but from the way you can barely hold yourself upright, it’s probably been a while.</p>
<p>“I’m lost,” you reply. Your voice is barely even there. Your throat is parched and dry and your words sound hoarse. He arches his brow at you and gives you a once-over. He’s speaking to you in English; does that mean he can tell you’re not from around here? That you <em>clearly</em> don’t belong here, wherever <em>here </em>is? “I don’t know where I am.”</p>
<p>He’s silent for a few moments before he speaks up again, “where are you from?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know,” you answer immediately, “I swear. I just… Woke up here, and I don’t know where I am, or how I got here, please—”</p>
<p>“Do you remember your name?” There’s still a hint of doubt in his tone, but it looks like he’s believing you—for now, at least. You respond to him, your name coming out in a stammer the first time before you repeat it, clearer and more articulate. He nods once, the action nearly imperceptible before he speaks up again, almost hesitantly, “follow me.”</p>
<p>“Am I… not intruding?” you blurt out, trailing after him like a lost puppy. It’s difficult to keep up with his strides and you’re not sure if it’s because of your fatigue or if it’s because he walks fast. </p>
<p>“Do you have a place to stay?” he shoots back, casting you a sidelong glance. You flush and meekly shake your head in response. Together, you enter the mansion and your jaw nearly drops at how grand everything is. The portraits on the walls, the statues on each side of the room—it’s a marvel to be seen.</p>
<p>(<em>Why does it feel like home? You know you don’t belong here, but something in your heart says that you </em><strong><em>do</em></strong><em>. What does it mean?</em>)</p>
<p>He leads you to a dining room. It’s empty, save for the decorations and the bowl of tropical fruit in the center of the grand wooden table. He pulls out a chair for you and without asking anything, you take a seat and stare up at him curiously.</p>
<p>He lets out a quiet sigh. “Wait here, please.”</p>
<p>“I… Okay.” You nod. “Are you… Making me food?”</p>
<p>“That’s what the kitchen is for, no?” He arches his brow at you once again and you find yourself coiling sheepishly. Ah, of course… Why did you have to ask such a silly thing? He disappears into the other room for a while then comes back with a jug of water, pouring you a glass and gently sliding it over to you. You murmur some words of gratitude and take a sip, watching as he disappears into the kitchen again.</p>
<p>You wonder if he’ll tell you about this place and more about where you are. You’re assuming you’re inside the house of a noble, judging from all the golden accents and the portraits on the walls. Everything exudes wealth and power, and you find yourself staring down on the glossy surface of the table before the scent of spices wafts past your nose.</p>
<p>A plate of rice and curry is placed in front of you.</p>
<p>“Thank you, ah…” You trail off. “Your name… if you feel comfortable sharing?”</p>
<p>He huffs quietly. “…Jamil.”</p>
<p>“Thank you, Jamil,” you repeat with a grateful smile. He takes a seat across from you and stares at you, his eyes narrowed in scrutiny. </p>
<p>(<em>The back of your neck is tingling again. Why is it doing that? It doesn’t burn or hurt at all, it feels… pleasant, somehow. Maybe you’ll find a doctor and ask them about this odd condition… if you do get to see one.</em>)</p>
<p>The curry tastes<em> amazing</em>. You’re not sure how to describe it; all you can say is that it’s <em>perfect,</em> a wonderful mix of flavors you find yourself wanting to taste more. It’s rather embarrassing how you’re wolfing it down, but Jamil doesn’t seem to be judging you at all. Still, his gaze on you is a bit concerting. He probably has just as many questions for you as you do for him.</p>
<p>“Jamil?” you ask him after the last bite. “Can you tell me about where I am?”</p>
<p>“You are in the Land of the Hot Sands,” he explains smoothly. “This is my master’s mansion… I don’t think he will have a problem with you staying here, but I don’t trust you yet.”</p>
<p>“I understand,” you murmur. “I wish I could tell you more about myself, but… I really can’t remember anything. I just… I remember waking up in the middle of nowhere, and I started walking, and then you know the rest.”</p>
<p>Even with your lack of memory, you still know in your gut that <em> Land of the Hot Sands </em> is a place you’ve never heard about before. You vaguely remember the continents of the earth and the country you’re from, some tidbits of the culture you grew up with, but this name is entirely new—</p>
<p>An image flashes in your mind then: a tall mirror, dusty and broken. Incomprehensible words echoing throughout the room, invisible tendrils wrapping around your form and pulling you <em>inside</em>, a blinding white light <em> — </em> </p>
<p>
  <em> Am I in an alternate dimension? </em>
</p>
<p>No, that’s impossible. It is,<em> right</em>? Yet, as ridiculous as it sounds, it still doesn’t feel too far-fetched. It <em>could </em>explain the memory loss or the random images flashing in your mind, random epiphanies, or prophecies… but so could an accident. </p>
<p>“Are you finished eating?” Jamil asks. You nod hastily, quickly tidying up the cutlery but he stops you. “I will clean that myself. Follow me—I show you the bath and the room you will stay in.”</p>
<p>He leads you through the hallways of the mansion. It feels like a labyrinth, and you briefly wonder how long he’s lived here to navigate the place so easily. He mentioned ‘master’ earlier… is he a servant? That would explain his familiarity with the mansion and his service.</p>
<p>He leaves you alone for you to take a bath. You find yourself immediately relaxing into the tub full of hot water, the tension in your limbs relaxing as warmth envelops your entire body. Shortly after, you get dressed in the attire he provided you with—a cream-colored long-sleeved tunic and loose-fitting pants, as well as a pair of sandals. By the time you leave the bath, he’s already standing there with his arms crossed, his expression unreadable.</p>
<p>“Ah, you’re finished,” he says. “Follow me, please.”</p>
<p>You arrive at what you assume is his room. It’s neat and tidy; there’s a single bed in the corner and the room seems to be mostly occupied with bookshelves. There’s also a locked door and you want to know what room it leads to, but you decide against it.</p>
<p>(<em>Another image flashes in your mind. Or rather, just complete darkness, but your senses are working—you smell something, like flowers and herbs. You feel warmth over your skin. You hear the sound of chopping and something being ground. You hear someone muttering. His voice sounds a lot like Jamil’s.</em>)</p>
<p>“You can sleep on my bed,” he says. You balk, waving your hands frantically but he frowns at you. “I can get more blankets and pillows. You are a guest. Sleep on the bed.”</p>
<p>… There is no room to argue with him. With a sigh, you mutter a <em> thank you </em> and climb into the bed, pulling the blanket up to cover your frame. Sleep comes to you in a few seconds and you don’t notice Jamil stopping at the doorway to look at you over his shoulder, bringing a hand up to the back of his neck.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>As Jamil expected, Kalim didn’t seem that fazed when he was told about you. Naively, <em>foolishly</em>, he happily agreed to let you stay for as long as you need until you gain your memories again. Jamil didn’t scold him this time—there isn’t exactly a point in scolding someone like Kalim, anyway. He does, however, scold Kalim when he bombards you with questions you can’t answer.</p>
<p>‘Where are your friends?’ How are you supposed to know that when you woke up alone in the middle of the desert? </p>
<p>He can’t comment or criticize Kalim’s curiosity about you, though—not when he’s wondering just as much.</p>
<p>Being pushy or persistent won’t get him the answers he needs. Bombarding you with questions would make you feel like you’re being interrogated, and the more pressure you’re under, the harder it is for you to find answers especially when your memory is foggy. You seem to be adapting to your surroundings well, though. It takes only two days for you to be able to navigate half of the mansion. You’re also getting along with Kalim well, but Jamil notices that you’ve been staying around him more. </p>
<p>It’s been about three weeks since you arrived. You’ve been helping Jamil in the kitchen or with any other household chores. While it isn’t really necessary since he’s efficient on his own, an extra pair of hands always gets the job done quicker. He knows it’s because you feel indebted to him somehow, but he doesn’t bring it up. </p>
<p>You’ve also been remembering more things, he believes. You had rushed to him just last week, nearly tripping over your own feet as you talked to him about a broken mirror. However, the more you talked about it, the more confused you became. He was just as confused too—after all, it <em>is</em> a strange thing to suddenly remember.</p>
<p>A broken mirror? An unseen force wrapping around you?</p>
<p>It sounded ominous. He’d tried browsing the books in the library for this, but he couldn’t find anything. The prophecy section of the library had nothing regarding a broken mirror or an unseen force. A specific memory—or rather, a vision as he believes—like this <em>has</em> to be magic; there’s no other explanation for it. No matter how much he searched for it, nothing came up as a result. He decided to wait until more memories come back to you before he starts searching again.</p>
<p>There is something stranger that happens whenever you’re around, though. </p>
<p>The strange feeling that lingers on the nape of his neck. It’s most definitely not a rash or an allergic reaction; if it was, he’d have taken care of it already. It’s bizarre—every time he feels this buzz on his neck, he feels his heart race, too. </p>
<p>… Now that he thinks about it, maybe it<em> is</em> something he should get checked.</p>
<p>He notices that you’ve also been subconsciously touching your neck a lot, too. Brushing your neck with the tips of your fingers as you furrow your brows slightly, the corners of your lips curving into a frown. A red flush spreading across your cheeks every time you look at him and avert your gaze, seemingly embarrassed about something he can’t figure out.</p>
<p>“Jamil?” you call out his name meekly, rolling over on your side while he sits cross-legged on his mattress. “Can I ask you something?”</p>
<p>He blinks. “Yes.”</p>
<p>You mumble something and he frowns. You’ve been doing that a lot the past few days. After clearing your throat, you repeat yourself louder this time, “do you believe in soulmates?”</p>
<p>
  <em> … What kind of question is that? </em>
</p>
<p>“Did you remember something else?”</p>
<p>You shake your head, heaving out a loud sigh as you slump your shoulders a little. “I… I don’t know. You mentioned magic, right? Do you think it could be magic?”</p>
<p>He purses his lips. “Why do you think it’s magic?”</p>
<p>“Because it doesn’t feel like a memory,” you reply. “I <em>know</em> it isn’t a memory. It feels like someone is speaking to me, but I don’t know who they are or <em>why </em>they’re doing that. It sounds… really silly, though.”</p>
<p>“Tell me,” he says. Could it be that you’re getting visions? Are you discovering magic for the first time? He was sure that you weren’t a magic user—it’s something that can be sensed—but your dreams have been strange lately. “What did you dream of?”</p>
<p>You let yourself fall backward on the mattress, clasping your hands over your stomach as you stare up at the ceiling in silence for a few moments. Why are you hesitating? Before he can wonder any further, you speak up again, “I’ve been dreaming of the same thing, but it’s also not really the same? I end up at the same place, but the voice speaks a different thing each time.”</p>
<p>Even <em>that</em> is beyond him. Visions are out of the question, then. This isn’t clairvoyance, foresight or your memories coming back—it’s different, and even he is stumped. He hums quietly, urging you to continue.</p>
<p>“I always end up in this… I don’t know. It’s dark, and it feels like I’m walking on air. And there’s the same mirror in front of me, but it’s not broken this time. I can’t see my reflection in it, though.”</p>
<p>“The voice comes from the mirror?” he asks.</p>
<p>“I think so, yeah,” you answer, “it’s kind of scary when I dream about this, but I feel like I can trust it. Last night, it told me—”</p>
<p>The way you stopped suddenly makes him raise a brow in confusion. He doesn’t press on any further, though. From observation and experience, Jamil has learned that people should explain things at their own pace, especially if it’s something difficult for them.</p>
<p>You prop yourself up on your arms and clear your throat, a sheepish expression taking over your features. </p>
<p>“It told me I was meant to be here,” you mutter, staring down at your lap, “that—actually, Jamil… Can I see the back of your neck?”</p>
<p>That… is an odd request, and he’s a bit hesitant to comply but he does so anyway. When your fingertips brush his skin, he feels a <em> spark </em>—a jolt of electricity that makes the nape of his neck buzz again. Then he hears you gasp the moment you brush his hair to the side—</p>
<p>“My… My name is there.”</p>
<p>Your name. Written on his skin.</p>
<p>
  <em> Do you believe in soulmates? </em>
</p>
<p>Does that mean you—</p>
<p>“A soulmate mark,” you murmur, “that’s what the mirror said. The reason why I don’t remember how I got here is because I <em>wasn’t </em>supposed to know. I was supposed to start over.”</p>
<p>He turns around, looking at you curiously. “I don’t understand.”</p>
<p>He says he doesn’t, but the way his heart races and threatens to burst out of his chest—something in him tells him that he already knows what you mean. He’s heard about soulmates before, but it’s so rare that there’s barely any information about them.</p>
<p>“I was supposed to find you,” you continue with an astonished tone. “Jamil—we’re… we’re meant to be together. I know it sounds crazy, but I think it’s true. Don’t you feel it, too?”</p>
<p>He does. He<em> does. </em></p>
<p>Even on the first day he met you, there was something oddly familiar about you that he couldn’t quite pinpoint. He felt like he <em> knew </em> who you were—like he had seen you before. Of course, he’s heard of déjà vu and he’s well aware of what it is, but this is different. He’s never been one to believe in fate that much, but he never questions it. Everything happens for a reason.</p>
<p><em> You </em>are <em>here</em> for a reason and that is <em>to be with him</em>. </p>
<p>He murmurs your name and you beam down at him, sliding off your bed to tackle him in a hug. He resists the urge to chide you because you could’ve gotten hurt, but tentatively returns the hug with a soft smile. </p>
<p><em> Soulmates</em>. It’s a pleasant word.</p>
<p>For Jamil’s entire life, he’s only known <em>duty</em>. The only thing he was supposed to do was  <em> serve</em>. Taking care of someone else is his duty, but then  <em> you</em> came along and suddenly the idea of taking care of someone doesn’t feel so harrowing anymore. He’s still young, having only left Night Raven College a few months ago, but he has faith in the direction his life is going because it’s written by fate. He hasn’t known you for too long, and of course, you’ll still need to get to know each other more. But knowing that he’ll get to spend the rest of his life with you—it brings him a great sense of comfort, and he finds that he doesn’t mind it at all.</p>
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